


Genghis Khan

by droid_girl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fuckbuddies, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 15:45:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16537502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/droid_girl/pseuds/droid_girl
Summary: AU- After Fleur dies in the battle of Hogwarts, Bill decides the best course of action is to become an Auror, so he can fight injustice.Partnered with Hermione Granger, the former Curse Breaker tries to hold on to the past...except he doesn't quite succeed.Because life, and a certain witch simply won’t let him stay mired in the past.





	Genghis Khan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TriDogMom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriDogMom/gifts).



> Happy Birthday TriDogMom (probably too late now 'cos it's past midnight EST).

Autumn brought with it, storm clouds, cold winds and incessant rain.

On a moor in Yorkshire, turning up his twill collar, Bill tried to ignore the way the freezing gusts cut through layers of leather, wool and cotton. Against the all-encompassing misery, he tried to pretend that a distinct chill was not in fact, seeping into his very bones, rendering his movements sluggish and his thoughts slow.

"There's an enchanted barrier up ahead," his companion murmured. "Can you feel it?"

Tilting his gaze, he noted once more, the way Hermione's shoulders were hunched up by her ears. Underneath her tan raincoat, he caught sight of a telltale tremor rolling across her back.

Something twinged in his chest, but resolutely, the wizard chose to ignore that feeling.

"All I can feel," Bill said, "Is the mud seeping into my boots,"

Turning towards him with a small, familiar smirk, she twitched her wand in his direction and muttered a short cantrip.

Two seconds later, his socks were dry, and his feet were warm. His boots seemed to be quite sealed as well, considering the way mud was no longer squelching in through its gaps and eye-holes.

"You didn't have to do that," he grunted.

"I'd rather you didn't get sick," Hermione turned her gaze back towards the horizon. "Your mother would have my head if you did,"

Bill hated that about her.

He hated how presumptuous she could be, and how her smile never wavered in the face of another’s impatience. He hated her insipid kindness, which to him, bordered on the naive and the oblivious.

Silently, he fired yet another warming charm against her back.

Debt repaid, Bill declared, "There's a shimmer in the air. Stop for a moment,"

"I don't see anything," she mused. Reaching up, she began to fuss at her loosening ponytail. As usual, her unruly hair would insist on not staying within its bonds. "But then again, I don't have super wolfy-vision,"

"Stop calling it that," Bill rolled his eyes.

"If you say so," Hermione agreed insincerely.

Without another word, the both of them raised their wands. Stretching his free hand out, he made contact with his companion’s open palm. Magic flowed through their bare skin, and as always, Bill found his breath catching in his chest as power began to surge between their bodies.

Before their eyes, a magical curtain dissolved, leaving them poised before a tiny, derelict cottage.

Really, it was more of a shed.

Dropping his hands, Bill strode towards the front door of the ramshackle structure, only to find himself facing what appeared to be a Muggle padlock.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking point you know," Hermione said conversationally as she unlatched the lock with a flick of her wand.

"Your overconfidence will get you killed one day," he stepped into the dark confines of the house and breathed in deep.

"Here's hoping," his partner said lightly.

Narrowing his eyes, Bill swallowed and directed his gaze towards the ground.

"I don't think anyone has been here in ages," he rasped after a moment. "Though...something doesn't quite feel right..."

" _Homenum Revelio_ ," his partner cast. The room they stood in lit up in a short flash of light. In that moment, all Bill saw was broken furniture, dust covered surfaces and rat droppings.

Scowling, the wizard shoved his wand back into his pocket. "I suppose they caught wind of us coming, and ran before we got here,"

"Yet they still put up their magical curtain," Hermione pondered. "And clearly, you smelled something,"

"I've been wrong before,” Bill found himself picturing his bed back in the inn, within the room he had rented under his name. He thought of its soft mattress, and pristine white sheets.

"I'm going to look around for a bit," the witch beside him sighed as she brushed droplets away from her curls. "Why don't you head on back to the inn? I'll see you at dinner,”

"There's nothing to find Hermione," he said gruffly. "They've scarpered,"

"Maybe Rowle and Travers left us clues," Hermione turned away from him.

Despite the warming spells he had been surreptitiously casting upon her person, Bill could plainly see an unhealthy blue tinge spreading upon her hands,.

"This place will still be here tomorrow," he countered. "Come on. It's late. We can apparate back here in the morning and pick up where we left off,"

Ignoring his good sense, Hermione began picking her way through the small space, uttering small spells as she went.

Irritated at her obstinacy, Bill shut out the sound of her chattering teeth, and quickly searched though one side of the cottage. When he was absolutely sure that he had turned up nothing, and that she hadn't found anything on her side either, unceremoniously, he closed the distance between their bodies.

"I can get myself back..." she started as he clutched tightly at her left hand.

Not waiting for her to finish her sentence, he pulled her close and took a half step.

***

In the middle of his rented room, Hermione felt solid and warm against his chest.

"...to the inn," she finished her sentence. Her breath was coming in harsh spurts as she tried to regain her balance.

"Sorry," he said unrepentantly.

With one arm curled around her waist, he waited for the woman to pull away from him.

When Hermione didn’t move, Bill bent down, and slanted his mouth against her own. After a split-second, she shifted her hands up to the nape of his neck and kissed him back

Forcing himself not to think of sapphire eyes and golden blonde hair, he pushed aside his companion’s soaked chestnut curls, and began pressing open-mouthed kisses down the smooth, damp expanse of her throat.

"Bill, I need to tell Kingsley..." she started as his hands coaxed her wet raincoat from her shivering shoulders. Ignoring an odd surge in his belly, he told himself he didn't care if she was still frozen to the core as he wandlessly vanished her soaking sweater.

"Kingsley can wait," he muttered as he undid her jeans and guided her towards the rented bed all at the same time. "It's not like we have any real updates,"

"I have to do my job," her voice hitched as he rolled a stiff nipple between his knowing fingers.

Slowing his movements, Bill pulled back and waited. When Hermione began to undress him rapidly, and when her clever hands found his eager cock, he resisted the urge to crow in triumph.

 

***

He watched as she charmed her clothes dry, and began to pull them back on with calm efficiency. Indifferently, he observed as she conjured another sweater that looked exactly like the one he had vanished.

"I'll let Kingsley know we'll do one last sweep in the morning," she said contemplatively. "Something about that place bugs me,"

"Fine," he nodded, throwing one arm over his eyes. If he didn't look at her, he could pretend her skin was fair and blushing, instead of tanned and golden.

After awhile, Bill asked, "Did you want to get dinner at the pub downstairs in a few?"

There was no answer, save for a small click.

Sitting up, he realized Hermione had disappeared through the adjoining door into her own quarters.

Working his scarred jaw, Bill flopped backwards and stared up at the ceiling. To his right, the spot the woman had occupied less than five minutes ago was already cooling.

 

***

"I didn't see you at the pub last night," he said by way of greeting, when they met in the front room of the inn they had been putting up in.

"I started writing a report," she yawned. "I lost track of time,"

"Did you at least order something up to your room for supper?" he found himself asking.

"No, but I'll snag a bite later," she said.

This morning, her hair was bound into a severe looking bun. Likely, she had spelled her curls with more than one sticking charm.

Observing the planes of her face, Bill remembered when she was still just Ron's little friend, round cheeked and cheerful. This woman with her jutting cheekbones and angled jaw line - she was a far cry from that girl.

Unbidden, the shape of her shoulderblades and angular hipbones flashed through his mind.

"Come on," she said and started for the door.

"Why don't you get some breakfast now?" he asked, not budging. “They serve breakfast till eleven at least,”

"I don't feel like eating," she shook her head as she cast him a sleepy smile.

For a wild moment, Bill pictured her giving him that exact same smile in the morning light, with her hair mussed and her shoulders bare.

"You're too thin," the words spilled out past his lips before he could stop himself.

"I'm fine. Let's go," her voice grew impatient.

 

***

She teetered at the front door of the abandoned cottage, and looked for a moment as if she were going to be sick.

"I told you you should have eaten something," he growled as he steadied her.

In his arms, Hermione felt uncomfortably light. Unconsciously, his hold around her tightened.

"I'm fine," she repeated flatly, and stepped away from him. Pivoting on her heel, she flung open the door and entered the one-room cottage.

Collecting his thoughts, Bill followed.

"There's something there…,” she frowned into a corner. Swishing her strip of vinewood, Hermione muttered, " _Finite Incantatem_ ,”

Nothing.

Glancing at Bill, she stretched her hand out and waited.

They had done this hundreds of times before, since they were assigned to each other as partners. That is, since he had abandoned his old life at Gringotts to become an Auror, for the sake of hunting down every last one of those sons-of-bitches who had been the reason his life had been destroyed.

They could do this a thousand times more, and still, Bill would be stunned at the way their combined powers became a force of nature to be reckoned with.

Indeed, their superiors in the Auror office had shared those same sentiments, after their first accidental display. He had brushed against Hermione during a mock-duel, and their simultaneous casting had cost the Ministry almost a million galleons in damages.

That was how they got partnered with each other to begin with - after half a hundred researchers had poked and prodded at them with wands. There had also been strict warnings in place, against the potential of them casting-while-touching anywhere within a five-mile vicinity of the Ministry.

Apart, they were average. Together, they were a magical marvel.

"Bill," Hermione said sharply in the present. "Did you not get enough sleep last night? You’re very distracted this morning,”

She waved her proffered hand impatiently at him. Scowling, he grabbed hold of her, and wondered what she would do if he were to step in close. He wondered how angry she would be, were he to guide her to the ground, and rut against her until they both found their pleasure.

Slyly, his mind presented a picture of the two of them laying beside each other, simply trading kisses with each other as the day waned away.

How they tumbled into bed after they discovered their magical synergy…well, that had been a very different story. Though to be fair, there had been no bed involved that first time.

In the aftermath of a heated chase across the streets of Birmingham, he had latched on to Hermione in the privacy of their own office, and he had taken her hard against their locked door.

"I didn't..." he had said when they were finished. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

“No. I’m fine,” she assured she pulled on her t-shirt and zipped up her jeans. Casting a cleaning spell over her person, she returned to work. “That was nice,”

Blinking at her with his shirt untucked, Bill had decided to follow her lead, and go on with life as if they hadn't just fucked in the middle of their shared workspace.

That had been their first time, which had been more than a year ago.

Their trysts were always heated, and good, and just fantastic enough, he could stop thinking about Fleur. Fleur, who continued to haunt his thoughts, and his every waking moment.

Or so he tried to tell himself.

In the middle of a broken down cottage on a miserable moor, the wizard focused his thoughts and his energy. Sharing a gaze with his partner, he caught a glimpse of Hermione’s softening smile as she sunk into the embrace of their shared magic.

Pointing their wands, as one, they blasted a hole through reality. The world warped, before it sprung back with a loud, tearing noise. Someone screamed.

Lowering his wand, Bill grinned wolfishly at what he saw, though his smile faded the moment Hermione released her hold on him.

"Thorfinn Rowle," Hermione strode towards the scared, filthy man cowering in the corner, who was clutching at a freshly broken wand. "You are under arrest, on charges of..."

"Mudblood," the man's face twisted as he produced a dagger from somewhere in the depths of his soiled robes. "Come any closer and I'll gut you. I'll give you a scar to match the one I know Lestrange left on your arm,"

Bill didn’t bother trying to hold himself back. Lowering his voice into a snarl, he could feel his wolf twisting under his skin as he barked, “ _Stupefy_!"

***

"Don't just stand out there in the cold!" his mother called excitedly.

Immediately in front of him, Hermione stepped carefully into the Burrow, and into Molly Weasley's welcoming arms.

"It's been too long since you've come for dinner," the older witch pulled back and cast the witch an appraising look. Whatever she saw made her purse her lips in concern. Brushing back the younger woman's curls from her face, she said, "Sweetheart, are you..."

"I'm fine," Hermione smiled affectionately.

"Bill, I know you two are busy, but surely you can make sure she's eating three times a day," Molly turned an accusatory glare towards him.

"She's a grown woman. She eats when she wants to," Bill shrugged.

“ _She's_ also in the room," Hermione muttered.

“You’re eating tonight,” Molly declared.

"Hello to you as well Mum," Bill said after a beat, as he struggled not to smile.

"Come here you," his mother yanked him into a hug. To his amusement, Hermione chose that opportunity to slink away into the bowels of the house.

Molly’s next words caused his shoulders to stiffen.

"Ron's visiting with Harry, and Ginny's back from training. It’s almost a full house here tonight,"

"That's...nice," he followed his mother.

***

Hermione sat on the other end of the dinner table, chatting and laughing with Ron and Harry both.

Slicing into his bloody steak, he eyed the portions Molly had heaped onto his partner’s plate; he observed the way the young woman nibbled slightly at her food.

Mostly, Hermione moved items around in her plate, whenever she thought nobody was looking.

Smoothing his brow, Bill chewed at his food without tasting it.

"I heard what you and Hermione accomplished today," his father said between bites of beef. "Great work that,"

"It was mostly Hermione," Bill said automatically, as he started in on his potatoes. "I was tired and wet, but she wanted to go on,"

The witch in question laughed at something Ron whispered in her ear. Allowing his eyes to flick towards her, he took in the sight of his little brother curling his fingers around her wrist.

Twenty-four hours ago, he had Hermione’s wrists - both of them - gripped tightly above her head, as he thrust himself into her.

"...two are a good team," his father went on.

“We really are," Bill nodded. “She’s a brilliant Auror,”

Discreetly, he observed the way Ron tucked himself closer to his partner.

"Do you know, I didn't think you'd stick with this project for as long as you did," Arthur sighed. "You loved your job at Gringotts,"

"I did," he nodded. "But that was before. Now however, I have a duty…"

"Vengeance isn't a duty," his father interrupted. "It's a corrosive, terrible monster, that eats you from the inside,"

This wasn't the first time Arthur had gone on in this vein.

"I like being an Auror," Bill said quietly into his food.

"If you say so,"

Above the din of chatter and laughter, Bill caught Ron's voice.

"...a few minutes. Please 'Mione. I really think it's time we talked about trying again,"

"Ron," her voice sounded scratched. Setting her utensils down, Hermione stood up and said, "Fine,"

Taking another bite, Bill chewed slowly as Ron and Hermione left the dinner table.

Half a minute later, he abandoned his half-eaten dinner.

***

"...three years, you said you wanted time, and I gave you time," he could hear Ron saying from behind his old bedroom door. "I'm tired of waiting 'Mione. I want us to be together. I'm ready to start living,"

Bill twitched his right hand towards the door knob. Doubtless, Ron would have locked his door…but he knew, first-hand, how frail the doors in the Burrow could be when put to the test.

"Ron, I..." Hermione floundered. "Could we not talk about this now?"

"We could be so good together. Don’t you remember our kiss?" Ron implored.

"I do. I really do. But that was then and this is…”

The older Weasley brother heard the sound of footsteps, and the slide of skin against skin. Grinding his teeth, Bill wrenched Ron’s bedroom door open.

"There you are," he said cheerfully. "Mum's been asking for you. And 'Mione, we really need to talk about our action plan for tomorrow,”

Before him, Ron had one hand gripped tightly around Hermione’s slender wrist, and the other settled at her hip.

“Bill, you’re kind of interrupting something,” his baby brother gritted out.

_Like hell._

“Sorry brother,” he forced a smile. “My partner and I have business to discuss. You know how it is, seeing as you’re in the force too,”

“Sorry Ron,” Hermione stepped neatly out of her best friend’s clinging grasp. “Bill, I was about to leave. Did you need more time though? We can speak in the morning,”

“No,” Bill shoved his hands into his pockets, because that was the safest place for them. “Shall we go over to my place?”

With an uncomfortable smile, Hermione shrugged her assent.

 

***

They had scarce stepped out of the fireplace in his bedroom, before he was ripping at her clothing and backing her towards his bed.

“I thought you said…” she gasped as his teeth scraped against her clavicle. Before long, she was tearing at his trousers.

Crushing her mouth against his, Bill swallowed her words as he pushed her backwards.

***

Stroking her bare shoulder, Bill collected his composure, and asked, “Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

“This. Us. Me,” he shifted to meet her dark gaze.

“You’ve never asked me this before,” she laughed. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, she made to swing her legs off the other side of his bed.

Easily he caught at her wrist. The wrist which Ron had held earlier at dinner…and which he had since lavished kisses against, for the sake of erasing his baby brother’s scent.

“I’m asking now,” he pressed.

“Bill…” she sighed and dipped her head.

“Ever since the war, I haven’t felt like I’m truly a part of the world. Going back to Hogwarts…going through Auror training…even doing paperwork…it all feels like I’m simply going through the motions. It’s all…white noise. Fucking…it takes away from the emptiness. It makes me feel like I’m a member of the living. Does any of this make sense?”

“Fucking me makes you feel alive?” he asked in wonder.

“Who said it was only you I was fucking?” she asked with a small smirk.

Fury exploded in a bright white light behind his eyelids. “I should have guessed,”

“I didn’t think you and I were exclusive or anything,” she bit her bottom lip. “I can only assume you’re using me as a placeholder for Fleur. Me, and probably…”

Bitterness crawled out his throat and onto his tongue. “A placeholder? Unlikely. You’re not a tenth of the woman Fleur was, so don’t embarrass yourself,”

Hermione froze.

Taking a deep breath, reality crashed into Bill’s consciousness. All at once, he realized with stunning clarity that not once since they had started…whatever the fuck it was they were doing…had he ever smelled another man on Hermione.

 _She had only been teasing_ , he understood too late.

“Wait…” his voice cracked as she yanked her hand away. Reaching for her wand on a nightstand, with a quick flick of her hand, she became fully dressed. “Hermione, wait, please…”

Scrambling clumsily after her, feeling as if his entire body was weighted down, Bill tried to stop his partner before she could reach his fireplace.

“I’ll see you at work Bill,” she said evenly. “We should go over our action plan for Travers,”

“Hermione,” still undressed, he took a step towards her even as she grabbed a pinch of powder and threw it into his constantly burning hearth. “Please, I’m so sorr…”

But she was already gone.

***

He arrived at work at his usual time, and slunk towards the office he shared with Hermione, half expecting her not to be there. To his relief, he found her at her desk, writing out a list of possible locations where Travers might be hiding in Wandsworth.

Rowle had spilled all his secrets, upon being threatened with a Dementor’s Kiss, and already, plans were in motion to close in on the remaining few members of Voldermort’s followers who were still at large.

Closing the door behind him, Bill approached her desk. To his surprise, she raised her head and smiled at him same as she did every morning.

“Good morning,”

“Morning,” he said automatically.

Remembering what he had in his satchel, Bill reached into its depths and drew out a red and brown paper bag. Carefully, he placed a small breakfast sandwich in front of her, which he had procured from a Muggle fast food restaurant on his way into work. “I thought you might be hungry, since…”

“We haven’t time,” Hermione stood up and grabbed her coat from the back of her chair. “We should probably check these leads out before Travers gets wind of Rowle getting caught…before he runs off to who knows where,”

“Hermione,” he tried to touch her, if only to stop her from moving. “About last night…”

“Don’t worry yourself over it alright?” her smile dimmed slightly as she sidestepped him. “What we’ve been doing has been nothing but casual. I have no illusions whatsoever, about what we mean to each other. If anything, I’ve been thinking for a while now, that perhaps we should put our…affair…behind us. It’s unprofessional, the two of us fraternizing the way we’ve been doing, considering we’re partners and all that,”

 _Stop_ , he thought numbly. _She wanted to stop._

“That’s not…” he began. Stopping was the last fucking thing he wanted.

The entirety of the previous night after Hermione had left, had been spent pacing, and trying to parse out exactly what the witch meant to him.

For so long, he had spent his days mourning Fleur; even literally surrounded by Hermione, he had been incapable of banishing the memory of his dead wife’s smile, her soft voice, her steel will.

Until one day, he realized that he couldn’t stop seeing Hermione at every turn and in everything. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He couldn’t stop wanting her, and god knows, his magic sought hers out with a ferocity he didn’t understand, across the distance spanning their bodies.

Everything about her fascinated him. From her natural brilliance, to her pig-headedness…there was nothing about her he didn’t adore.

Before he could tell her everything that was in his heart, Bill was interrupted by Hermione herself, as she opened the door to their office, and stepped out into the world.

“Coming?” she inquired, and strode off.

Chasing after her, Bill cursed himself, even as he apologized to the ghost of Fleur…who was probably rolling her eyes at his stupidity.

***

The building was dark and chill. Water dripped incessantly somewhere in the depths of its hallways, and the scent of mould damn near suffocated him.

“Hermione, please, can we…” Bill whispered as they entered the abandoned building with their wands drawn.

“Weasley, honestly,” now the witch sounded sincerely cross. “We’re on the clock,”

“Sorry,” he felt a pang of contrition. Raising his wand, he moved silently and sniffed the air. “That way,”

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked, keeping her eyes trained on a dank passage.

“More or less,”

“If you’re wrong, we could lose him,” she said quietly.

“You take the second storey, I’ll take the third,” he suggested.

“Should we send for back up?” Hermione asked seriously.

But he was already sending his _Patronus_ bounding off into the alleyway outside.

Grinning up at him, Hermione did the same.

Before she could wander off, Bill caught her shoulder, and tugged her into the circle of his arms.

“Bill…” she protested.

“Be careful,” he begged, and kissed her. Really, truly kissed her, the way he had been wanting to kiss her for months.

In his arms, the witch stiffened, but didn’t pull away. Gingerly, she darted a small tongue out to greet him.

Parting from her made his chest ache.

“I’ll take the second storey,” she said, pressing one hand to his chest.

There was something in her eyes he almost didn’t recognize; it took him a moment to remember that she used to own that hopeful light, back when he had first met her.

“Be careful,” he repeated as his heart swelled with profound emotion. “Please,”

***

The rooms were empty, and the hallways were lifeless, Bill realized after thirty minutes. Likely, Travers had already fled the scene.

Ambling towards a deserted stairwell, Bill paused mid-step when he heard a loud bang coming from downstairs, followed by a very feminine scream.

“Fuck,” he cursed, and began to run.

Slamming onto the second storey, the half-wolf gazed down a long hallway, and found Hermione laying prone on the ground, with an angry and malicious Travers bearing down on her.

“Filthy whore,” the Death Eater snarled. “ _Cruc…_ ”

“ _Avada Kedav…_ ” Bill spat.

“ _Stupefy!_ ” Hermione’s weak voice interrupted his casting. “ _Incarcerous!_ ”

Travers collapsed to his knees as thick rope wound tightly around his torso.

Breathing hard, Bill turned to regard his fallen partner. Dashing towards her, he propped her up in his arms.

“Are you…” he started.

“I’m fine. He tried to stun me,” Hermione panted, and glared at the fallen Death Eater. “He failed.”

“Shit,” Bill breathed as he pressed her face against his chest. “Merlin, I could have fucking lost you,”

“You didn’t,” she shifted to look him in the eye. Downstairs, they could hear the sound of other Aurors materializing. “I’m here, I’m fine,”

“You’re here,” he repeated stupidly as he clasped her face in his hands. “You’re fine, you’re alive,”

“Bill…” she said right before he kissed her. After a long moment, she murmured, “I guess we should continue messing about, to see where this all goes,”

“Oh fucking hell just give me the Dementor’s Kiss and get on with it,” Travers complained from where he was laying on the ground, watching the two of them.

“Travers, shut the fuck up,” Bill grinned, not looking away from his witch’s face. “Hermione, have dinner with me tonight,”

“That’s weird,” she blinked. “But alright,”

 

***

**A Soft Epilogue**

His eyes snapped open, only to be greeted with the reality of an otherwise empty bedroom. There was no soft breathing by his side, no presence of a soft, warm body.

Sitting up, Bill reached out with his senses. After a few minutes, he found what it was he had been seeking. Relieved, he dragged himself out of bed, and pulled on a dressing gown.

Padding down to the kitchen, he came across his wife, presiding over a plate of cold chicken.

“Hungry?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her curly hair before he sat down beside her.

“These days? Always,” she sounded sulky.

“It’s only to be expected,” he rubbed a comforting hand on her lower back, before he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her neck.

“I’m going to be as big as a boat before this is all over,” she warned.

“I doubt it,” he laughed, as he dropped a hand to her swollen belly. “You’re giving up half the boat in a month at least,”

“My mother was overdue by three weeks,” Hermione informed him archly, before she forked another mouthful of chicken past her lips.

“First ones are usually overdue,” he reminded her as he brushed lightly at her curls.

Casting him an almost malicious glare, Hermione made a face.

“I love you too,” Bill said quietly.

“I love you,” she replied quickly. “I’m just tired. And fat,”

“You’re lovely,” he assured.

Resting his forehead against her shoulder, the half-wolf wondered once more, at the surge of magic which leapt between them, as her left hand found his own. Underneath their twined fingers, their soon-to-be firstborn kicked upwards at them.

Smiling in contentment, Bill shut his eyes.

**The End**


End file.
